Servant of the Bones

"You already love me," he said. "Almost everyone who sees me loves me. Even my grandfather loves me."

"You think so?" I said. "You know he knew I was there when he sold you the bones, he saw me."

This stunned him into utter silence. He shook his head, then went to speak, then was silent again.

"I was in the room and visible, and when he saw me with his mean little blue eyes, that was when he agreed to tell you what you wanted to know of the Servant of the Bones and to sell me to you."

The full hurt of it hit him. The full hurt. I thought he would weep. He turned and walked this way and that. "He saw you . . ." he whispered. "He knew the spirit could be brought forth from the bones and he gave the bones to me."

"He knew the spirit was there in his room, and he sold you the bones in the hope that I would go with them. Yes, he did that to you. I know, it's pain, unendurable pain to realize that such a trick could be done. For a mortal man to hurt a mortal man, that's one thing. But for a zaddik to see a demon and know that demon can destroy you, and to pass on that demon to you-"

"All right, you've made your point!" he said bitterly. "So he despises me, so he did as soon as I questioned him. By twelve I was hurling my questions at him, and by thirteen gone from his house, and dead and buried in his Court." He shivered all over. "He saw you and he passed the bones to me. He saw you!"

"That's right," I said.

He grew calm with amazing speed. His face took on renewed confidence and he pondered, easily shoving aside hate and hurt, as I knew that I had to do.

"Will you give me some simple facts?" he asked. His voice went lower. He was radiant with his pleasure. "When did you first see me or anyone connected with me? Tell me."

"I told you. I came alive with Billy Joel Eval, and Hayden and Doby Eval on their way to kill the rich girl. They stuck their picks in her before I knew it. I went after them. I killed them. She saw me as she died, she said my name. Her soul went right up into the light, as I told you. Next I saw you was in the room of the Rebbe, no, as you approached, as you came towards it out of your car, with your guards all around you. I followed you into the room. The next night I did the same. And here we are. The rest I've explained. I became visible to the old Rebbe. I became flesh as I am now, and he struck his bargain."

"You exchanged words with him?" he asked, looking away as if this hurt was something he couldn't quite fight.

"He cursed me, he said he would have no traffic with demons. He wouldn't help me. He wouldn't have mercy on me or answer my questions. He wouldn't recognize me!"

I left out the part that the old man had made me disappear the first time, and that on the second occasion I had left on my own.

His face truly actually changed for the first time.

That is, his next expression seemed a great leap from where he'd been in his feelings and intentions. Something was stripped away from him. It was not the humor, it was not the jubilation, it was not the strength. It certainly wasn't the courage. But something was uncovered in him that was ruthless, and it made me think of my own fingers when they had tightened around the wooden handle of the pick and when I had shoved it into the soft swishy stomach of Billy Joel, right beneath his ribs.

He turned and walked a few steps away from me, and again I felt nothing. I watched; I felt my blood run through my veins. I felt the flesh of my face tighten as I myself smiled a tiny secret smile that aided my thoughts.

All of this is illusion, Jonathan, but the details meant it was very good illusion! As good as now, as I sit before you. Now, it takes strength, great strength, to do it, as you know. And though by the time I came to you, Jonathan, I was used to that strength; I was not so used to it then.

Yes, I'm independent of him, I thought with a great surge of courage, but what about the bones? How does it all figure? Could it be true, that I had been destined for him? In a moment Gregory would realize that the zaddik's seeing me and passing me on did not really contradict Gregory's own theory that I was intended for him.

"Right," he said suddenly, answering my thought. "He was merely the instrument. He had no idea. No idea at all that it was for me that he kept the bones. And Esther's words, that's what made the link. Esther gave me the link as she died; she sent me to him to get the bones, and to get you from him, you see. You are destined for me, and worthy of me."

He paced and stroked the flesh beneath his lower lip with his finger. "Esther's death was inevitable, necessary. I didn't realize it myself. She was the lamb. And she brought you to me. It is I who must make plain to you your full destiny."

"You know, maybe you do have something," I said, "with this talk of my being worthy of you. I mean, perhaps you are worthy of me. You are so surprising. I wonder."

I paused, then went on:

"Those masters, maybe they weren't worthy of me."

"They couldn't have been," he said with chilling smoothness. "But I am. And now you're beginning to understand, and you're helping me to understand. I am the Master, but only in so far as I'm your destination, I'm your . . . your. . . ."

"Responsibility?" I said.

"Ah, yes, perhaps that's exactly the word."

"That's why I don't kill you now, even though you sanctify the murder of that poor girl with some fancy babbling?"

"It's facts. She brought you to me, through my grandfather. She sent me to you, and you to me! She did it! That means the plan will work, the plan will be realized. She was a martyr, a sacrifice, and an oracle."

"God guides in all this?" I asked derisively.

"I will guide things as I think God wants me to," he answered. "Who can do better?"

"You would seduce me to love you, wouldn't you? You are so used to love, love from people who open your doors and pour your drink and drive your car ..."

"I have to have it," he whispered. "I have to have the love and recognition of millions. I love it. I love it when the camera shines on me. I love when I see my grand scheme ever expanding."

"Well, maybe you won't get it from me for very long. Before I ever saw Esther die, I was damned tired of being a ghost! I'm tired of serving masters. I don't see any reason for me to do what it says on the casket!"

Anger again. Heat. But it was no more than might come from the body of a man.

I stared at the casket. I ran back my own words through my head. Had I said such a bold thing? Yes, I had, and it had been true, and it had been no curse or supplication to anyone.